


when you smile and it tears your face

by Hydra_Trash_Gal



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Diary/Journal, Everything Hurts, Fluff if you look really really really hard, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Not Steve Friendly, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 09:31:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18070829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hydra_Trash_Gal/pseuds/Hydra_Trash_Gal
Summary: Sam thinks communication is key to fixing their conflicts.Steve doesn’t have it in him to love three men.





	when you smile and it tears your face

**Author's Note:**

> please heed warnings. i wrote this ages ago and found it in my drafts and tried to make it slightly less depressing than it was (and succeeded!) but still, not a fix it fic.

“Where did you even get an idea like this?”

Sam clicks his tongue and considers pretending to have done in-depth research, maybe a conference at some fancy university like Brown or Yale. He decides that Steve’s been deceived enough in the past few months. Sam can’t in good conscious do it to him again. So he presses the leather bound journal into Steve’s hands with a look of confidence he hopes he sells.

Steve frowns down at it and Sam remembers that while Captain America has taken a dip into newer theories, psychology continues to freak him out. Especially with everything that happened with Bucky.

“I saw it on a movie.” Sam is honest, he expects Captain America to be proud but Steve just frowns. “C’mon man, give it a try.”

“I can’t make him do anything.” Steve flinches a bit and offers a feeble correction of his own accord. “Them, I mean. I can’t make _them_ participate if they don’t want to.”

“Well, we can give them the materials and the guidance.” Sam shrugs and claps Steve on the shoulder. “Maybe they’ll use it.”

•• •• •• ••

No one writes in the journal for three months.

Steve introduces the idea to Bucky and he snorts, towel wrapped around his waist. Steve wants to lick every water droplet from skin. He’s positively consumed by how happy he is to have him back.

“What kinda head shrink shit is that?” Bucky pulls Steve closer, drops the journal back to the desk surface in the alters’ room. “‘Sides, I ain’t done with you punk.

•• •• •• ••

Steve introduces the idea to Winter. He gets an owlish look as Winter toys with the hem of his shirt.

He wears long sleeves despite the warm weather, in the actual cold seasons you’d think the man is homeless the way he bundles up. He’s an an oddity in every way and Steve thinks it’s what makes him so difficult to deal with. Winter flinches when anyone tries to touch him but has no comprehension of personal space. He chatters endlessly about things no one asks about (the type of moss found in the wetlands, why tundras are so important, every single goddamn species of bird found in throughout Russia). When anyone asks questions to Winter, however, he clams up and whines ‘I don’t know’ like a skipping record.

“What do you want me to do with it?” Winter always whispers when he talks about anything beyond his limited scope of interest.

Steve always feels so drained being around him. He’s the results everything that Hydra did to tear down his Bucky and the worst pieces of becoming a human being made permanent. He breaks Steve’s heart but also makes him sick at how goddamn passive he continues to be.

“Write in it. To...Bucky or-or the Soldier. If you want.”

Winter just stares at him. Steve stares back.

“Is Clint here?”

Steve nods and know it’s wrong but he’s always happy to see Winter go.

•• •• •• ••

Steve doesn’t introduce the journal to the Soldier because he’s forgotten about it. No longer as murderous as he once was, the Soldier is rigid and robotic in nature. His presence isn’t as abrasive as Winter’s but it doesn’t make Steve miss Bucky any less.

The Soldier brings him the journal. “Explain.”

Steve lowers his book and doesn’t have to worry about if sighing will make the man in front of him cry. The Soldier is indifferent about Steve. Winter is hyper aware of Steve and cries far too much. Steve refuses to tell Bucky this and has forbidden anyone else from mentioning it because he knows how humiliating it would be.

How humiliating it should be to fall apart for such non-catastrophic events, Steve thinks in disdain.

“Sam brought it over — do you remember him?”

Have they met since the bridge? Steve is never sure anymore on who remembers and who cares about what. His focus is on Bucky. “The black man, not the one overly fond of Stark, the other one. He has wings.” The Soldier reports. Steve nods. “What is the use?”

“To write down things you need to say to each other?”

The Soldier narrows his eyes. “You do not sound certain.”

Then again, sometimes, Steve finds the Soldier to be an asshole.

“It’s to write down messages between yourselves.” Steve says, a new firmness in his tone.

“There is nothing written.”

Duh, Steve thinks. “Guess you guys don’t have anything you’ve had to say to each other.”

Steve gets away with sarcasm with the Soldier because he sort of gets it. Bucky always communicates with sarcasm or flirting or like a normal fucking human being. Steve just wishes the other person inside his body had the same decency.

“Understood.”

Steve goes back to his book and prays to God that Bucky comes back soon.

•• •• •• ••

Steve wakes up to Bucky nudging him awake. Steve presses closer to him, he’s greedy for him in every way now. That warm sleepy smell that’s so familiar but also now has tinges of a metallic undertone he doesn’t mind really, so long as it’s Bucky.

It’s always Bucky in his bed though. Winter and the Soldier use the guest bedroom and that saves him the extra aggravation. Of course the Soldier sleeps on the floor so the real annoyance was, as usual, Winter.

“You up?”

Bucky’s mouth moves against his neck, teeth nipping lightly about his collar bone. Steve runs his palms along his chest, along Bucky’s chest because it’s Bucky. Because he’s back.

Each day he’s back feels like a gift. Every day he’s gone is a curse.

“Just ‘bout.” Steve rolls over, blinking away weariness.

Sunlight slots through the drawn shades and it gives Bucky an ethereal glow.

“Remember that stupid ass book Wilson brought us?” Bucky asks and it takes Steve a minute but yeah, he remembers. He nods. “Someone wrote in it.”

Steve props himself up on his elbows and frowns down at the book. “Really? Who?”

“Dunno. Do you recognize the writing?” Bucky tilts the page toward him. “Sure as hell ain’t my writing.”

Steve knows Bucky’s handwriting by heart and this isn’t it. He frowns at it. The letters are caps, small and perfectly spaced. Steve knows it’s the Soldier — everything he does is dedicated to precision. “I’d say it’s the Soldier.” Steve doesn’t want to talk about them, not when Bucky is here, but he is a bit curious. “What’s it say?”

“It says that items that are not of use should be disposed of.” Bucky smiles a bit. “You know, you never really told me ‘bout these guys.”

Steve schools his expression carefully. If he shows any particular distaste Bucky will want more information. “They exist.” Steve kisses Bucky’s jaw, nuzzles against his cheek. “They don’t matter right now anyway.”

The book hits the floor with a thump as Bucky wraps his arms around Steve. He holds him a moment and Steve relishes the closeness. “Ya know you never wanna tell me,” Bucky nips at his earlobe to distract him.

Steve is tactical by nature, escape routes for this talk already in place without any conscious effort. “Never more important than bein’ here with you.”

“Sweet talking me like some dame isn’t gonna get you outta it, Stevie.” Bucky pulled away. “Tell me ‘bout one of ‘em. They’re not me, right? Stark says they’re all different people.”

Steve falls back some. “Uh yeah.” Steve considers what’s important. “The Soldier doesn’t want a real name, only wants to be called Soldier or the Asset. He’s very… He’s a Soldier, that’s it.”

“That’s it.” Bucky draws back. “Am I dangerous, like that?”

Steve’s stomach clenches up tightly and he shakes his head fiercely. “It is not you.” He huffed out a breath. “They... they aren’t you Buck. The Soldier is just dull, is all. All about efficiency.”

Bucky gives him a searching look, wondering if he’s lying. Steve remembers that look, the way Buck scrunches his nose a bit as he stares long and hard at Steve.

He thinks of all those times he was sick as a dog and still tried to go work only to be forced back to bed by a livid Buck. ‘You wanna catch your death this time, Steve? I sure as hell ain’t gonna let you do it. Lay back down and I’ll let Mr. Samson know you ain’t in any shape t’ go in.’

“I swear,” Steve says, and he even sounds a bit desperate to his own ears so he sighs. “I told you — he’s just boring. He ain’t you. He thinks everything is a mission or...or some op to be completed.”

Bucky leans back against the pillows, runs his fingers through his hair and frowns as it catches. “Which one of ‘em doesn’t know how to brush his goddamn hair? Better yet, doesn’t know enough to cut it?”

Steve feels his lip curling a bit before he can stop himself. Bucky opens his mouth, then seems to change his mind. “Forget it, I don’t think I wanna know. Let’s do it later — after I get to taste you, Stevie. I’m practically droolin’ for it.”

Steve is thankful for that but more than that, he’s happy Bucky’s home.

•• •• •• ••

Steve comes home from his run, brushing snow from his shoulders. A cup of coffee, half depleted in his hand.

Sam ditched halfway through the run, unwilling to battle the elements or the slippery walkways. Steve never minds staying out for extended periods whenever Bucky is gone. ‘Asleep’ they call it, because the transitions between them happens when they sleep. Steve has a gut-wrenching fear every time he feels that cold empty space beside him because it means whoever has control of Bucky’s body has gone to the guest room.

Steve knows it’s Winter because he’s wearing a thick knit sweater and sweatpants, sitting as the table and tugging on his hair. “Good morning.” Steve pauses to set down the coffee. “Did you eat?”

Winter shakes his head and Steve suppresses his sigh, albeit narrowly. “Do you know what you want to eat?” Steve prods. Sam always tells him to patient with Winter, that he’s not nearly as tough as Bucky or the Soldier. “Do you remember where to find the food?”

Winter dunks his head, mumbles. “Sorry?” Steve cocks his head. “You need to speak up.”

“My hair.” Winter’s voice is hoarse whisper.

Steve glances up at it. He was the one to cut it, at Bucky’s request. It looks much better in Steve and Bucky’s opinion — the entire tower likes it.

Except Winter, who looks on the brink of tears.

“Yeah.” Steve picks up the coffee and drinks it to keep busy. Watery blue eyes are fastened on him, waiting for some sort of clarity. “It got cut. Bucky didn’t like it.”

Winter exhales like the breath has been punched from him. He folds in a bit, forearms bracing against the table. He’s whispering and Steve wants to tell him to cut it out, to be normal, to be Bucky. The whispers get louder and it’s just Winter repeating “it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair” over and over.

Steve wants to shake him to see if he can rattle Bucky back. He calls Sam instead. His head is throbbing when Sam finally get there. “This weather is some kind of bullshit,” he says fiercely with a headshake.

“He’s all bent out of shape because Bucky cut his hair.” Steve sounds as done as he currently feels.

Sam is significantly less sympathetic. He frowns at him; he judges him for not groveling for Winter’s forgiveness on something he has no rights over. In the other room Winter is continuing his whisper-shouting and hair tugging — Steve is sorely tempted to say to him if he keeps it up he’ll end up bald, but that seems unnecessarily cruel.

“Of course he’s upset. Imagine waking up one day and your body is different? He didn’t have a choice in the matter, just like the arm.” Sam pauses and then adds, “Just like what they did to him when he couldn’t fight back.”

Anger simmers up in Steve’s chest and his throat feels tight. His mouth tastes of blood. Those things will never be comparable in Steve’s opinion. Losing a limb or being raped is one thing, getting a fucking haircut is another.

This was why Steve has so much trouble with Winter: everything is the end of the goddamn world. You’d think someone who’s been through that much suffering would have a thicker skin. But Winter is unwavering in his disappointments.

So Steve says nothing. He presses his lips in a thin line and inhales slowly.

“It isn’t this big of a deal but he won’t shut up.” Steve hears the anger in his voice and adds, “Bucky likes it short so it’s going to be short. He needs to get over it.”

“Just because it doesn’t matter to you doesn’t mean it shouldn’t matter to him.” Steve nods because he doesn’t want to argue, just wants Sam to get Winter to shut up. “You really should see someone yourself, Steve. Someone you can talk to about all this.”

Steve looks toward the dining room eager to end the episode and the conversation. Sam knows his alternative motive but doesn’t comment. He just goes and speaks to Winter in a soft voice, not at all how Bucky would ever tolerate anyone speaking to him. Even when Steve was hauling him out of the base, half conscious and tortured he told him to talk to him a man not like some incompetent.

Steve moves restlessly around the living room and the kitchen. He tries not to overhear which is a lot easier now Stark has soundproofed the walls. When Sam comes back in the room, Winter sulks along behind him, whispers ‘sorry’ and goes to his room.

“So?”

“So, it’s a good time to use the book.” Sam looks awfully pleased with himself.

Steve rolls his eyes and wonders if anything was even fixable at this point.

•• •• •• ••

**ANY** **ITEMS** **NOT** **IN** **ACTIVE** **USE** **ARE** **REFUSE**

 

_i_   _woke_ _up_ _and_ _my_ _hair_ _is_ ~~_bad_~~ _different_ _and_ _i_ _don’t_ _like_ _it._

•• •• •• ••

“So, guess someone wasn’t a fan of the haircut huh?”

Steve rolls his eyes as he catches sight of the book. “He’s just…” Steve waves his hand. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” Bucky is frowning down at it. “It’s weird you know. Waking up and it’s a different month or season. Knowing that I’m up and walking around but it’s…not me doing it. My hands wrote this and I dunno what it is or who I was when I wrote it.”

Steve wishes he could take it away. He wishes he could find a way to anchor Bucky into body forever. He doesn’t know so he settles on a kiss and Bucky melts against him.

“Least you’re here when I wake up, no matter what month it is.”

Steve wants to say that he wishes Bucky was here or that he could disappear during all the times he’s gone. Bucky rests his head against his chest. His hair is growing out and tangled.

When Steve offers to cut it Bucky says ‘maybe’.

•• •• •• ••

Steve likes my hair short. Do you mind if I cut it?

 

_please_ _don’t_ _make_ _me_ _i’ll_ _be_ _good_ ~~_plese_~~ _please_

 

**HAIR** **LENGTH** **STANDARDS**   **BELONG TO THE HANDLER. IF CAPTAIN ROGERS REQUESTS IT SHORT YOU MUST COMPLY**

 

Steve isn’t a handler.

 

_please_

 

**THEN WHO DO WE ANSWER TO?**

•• •• •• ••

“The Soldier thinks your his handler.”

Steve blinks awake and squints at Bucky in the early light. “Buck?”

“His fucking _handler_ Steve.” Bucky paces in front of the bed, as he tries to comb through his mop of hair with his fingers. “It’s not right.”

“The Soldier always has to answer to someone.” Steve rubs sleep from his eyes. “How d’ya know that anyway.”

“The journal.” Bucky stops pacing. “Winter doesn’t want his hair cut.”

“‘s not his choice.” Steve sits up and reaches toward Bucky. Bucky does not come forward and crawl into the bed like always does. He stands there, discontent. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s his hair too, I don’t feel right making him so upset.”

Steve doesn’t want to talk about Winter, he’ll gladly pretend he doesn’t even exist when he’s not in front of his face and… It makes him feel a bit guilty if he’s being honest. “Okay.” Steve stands, “Yeah, we’ll leave the hair okay? And next time the Soldier’s around I’ll make sure he knows I’m not a handler.”

Bucky smiles a bit and finally kisses Steve. “Thanks.”

•• •• •• ••

_thank_ _you_ _for_ _not_ _cutting_ ~~_my_~~ _our_ _hair_

•• •• •• ••

Steve wakes up to soft fluttering kisses against his neck. He smiles and holds Bucky tightly and hopes in vain that this time he may stay. For two weeks he exists in an extended moment of perfection. Bucky meets with their friends, participates on runs with Sam (and in the case of exceptionally poor weather, without him). He teases Stark and oogles his designs. At night Steve and Bucky are one, his hips pressing against the firm flesh of Bucky’s ass. The first night they make love but every night after, ever spare moment between social responsibilities, they fuck.

Steve holds onto Bucky as he comes and he prays he’ll be there when he wakes up. For two weeks he is.

Then Steve wakes up to a cold spot in the sheets and drags himself through his routine. Winter is chipper and doesn’t tug at his hair when he greets him. Steve carries his sorrow and forgets not to sign. By evening Winter is tugging at his hair, shuffling his feet.

Steve looks at Winter and aches to see someone familiar. He doesn’t. It’s not Bucky.

Three weeks of heartbreak and he wakes up to the Soldier waiting at the table. Steve sighs and makes him breakfast. He gives him permission to train — Winter doesn’t do much of physical fitness and doesn’t eat enough so his weight falls.

Maybe it’s why he always seems to drown in his own clothing?

Steve misses Bucky too much to worry. Steve isn’t so sure he has it in him to care about two extra men.

•• •• •• ••

_~~i wish steve did not hate me~~_   _how do i be better_

•• •• •• ••

~~_i wish i didn’t exist_ ~~ _i wish someone cared about me_

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know what you thought and thank you so much for reading!


End file.
